


reality on full speed.

by Yui_Miyamoto



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-21
Updated: 2005-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28815798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yui_Miyamoto/pseuds/Yui_Miyamoto
Summary: When you’ve failed, how do you move up again?
Relationships: Echizen Ryouma/Tezuka Kunimitsu, Fuji Shuusuke/Tezuka Kunimitsu





	reality on full speed.

**Disclaimer – Prince of Tennis isn’t mine.  
  
**  
Thump-thump. Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump. Thump-thump…  
  
The crowd anticipates what I’m about to do as I bend my knees, ready to pose as if it’s all been planned. Don’t lose your cool or else you’ll be guilty again of self-betrayal.  
  
You watch yourself as if you’re somebody else. There’s no one there, but you, right?  
Why does it always come to responsibility to other people, forgetting all about yourself?  
  
Adjust your glasses with your index finger and watch the ball spit out of the machine, hurling at you in a speed that your eyes can see. It’s been that long since you’ve played tennis and the addiction turned into something that’s unnatural. It is not quite called passion anymore.  
The motions have become automatic.  
  
You’ve come to fear the fact that your eyes calculate everything in split seconds and your left arm swings faster than your thoughts.  
Thwack!  
  
Chin-ching. The ball bounces off the fence, a cage of your own creation: Is it a cave closing in or a cocoon to find yourself?  
You’re not so sure anymore as you drop your racket.  
  
The sweat falls from your face as your eyes stare at the dark green floor at your feet. You bend to cup your palms over the ball of your knees. Your panting becomes heavier and heavier. The atmosphere’s making you a little dizzy, but you numb yourself.  
  
“Focus. Focus…” You manage to say to yourself through all the deep gasps, a fish gulping for water once it’s been flung from its blue, watery home.  
  
You adjust the tempo of the machine to serve the balls faster in an upbeat rhythm. And when you go back into place, the balls come faster and faster to you. Left, right, left, right, back….  
Your arm wants to tighten. You’ve been here for hours, but you can’t seem to stop.  
  
Life is going as fast as those zips of neon green streaks.  
  
 _/”So what are you doing after graduation?”  
“What are you planning to do?”  
“Will you get married soon?”/_  
  
Thwack. THWACK.  
  
 _/“Didn’t you get that scholarship? Aren’t you taking it?”  
“Oh, there’s that genius again. He makes me sick.”  
“Let me help you with whatever you need to do. You’re moving, aren’t you?”/_  
  
THWAACK~!  
“I don’t want to answer anymore!” You bite your lip until it feels raw. “Why do I have answer all these stupid questions?!”  
  
You talk to yourself in loud whispers. It’s the only way you can let it all out as you clearly hear the voices of all those people inside of your jumbled head. Nod to that classmate, say yes to your uncle, and cringe at the voice of that insincere girl’s offer. Their expectations clash with all of your perfectionist ways. Your harshness to your own situation is typical for you, but it will exceed everyone’s words.  
  
Are you enough for yourself?  
  
The fear fills your hand as the last ball blasts through and hits your racket. But in the next second, you let it all go. The abandoned racket clangs onto the floor. And your pride won’t let you touch the ground or cry openly with it. That unmoving mask of a face stares at the fenced cage around you. You can feel your expression harden.  
  
Clinggg.  
Falling backwards, you support yourself on one of the sturdy, holey walls.  
  
As soon as you do so, fingers grip onto the sleeves of your drenched tennis shirt, touching a part of your upper arms. The hot fingers press through, melting everything away as if there is nothing between the both of you.  
  
“That’s enough,” the voice behind you says. “’Mitsu. Stop thinking about everything. Stop being upset. It’s not your fault.”  
And you shake your head. “Syusuke, if I had trained him longer-“  
  
“It would have done nothing. And you know that’s the truth.” You won’t believe what this person’s just said. You close your eyes as you feel that familiar headache approaching in small, nerve-racking doses.  
“You have to go to the airport now. Let’s go.” There’s a tender kiss on your sweaty neck.  
  
You can hear the clicking as Syusuke licks his lips. Sympathetically, he whispers, “You have to go and he has to fall. He has to live with this defeat.”  
  
You’re leaving the boy all over again. You’re pulling him along, but for what? To show him how far you can go if he followed you?  
We don’t live in that kind of world. You can be idealistic all you want, but even the best will fall. And they will hide away from the world.  
  
Those calm, yet tempting fingers let me go and I put my racket into the bag. I pick up my other bags and leave in a taxi, exhausted as I rest on Syusuke’s shoulder. He covers my face with his arms so that even the taxi driver won’t see a college-aged man dryly cry.  
  
Life goes faster even if we’re in traffic.  
The tournaments. Graduation. Scholarship or career?  
  
Where am I? Who am I? Where am I going?  
Where was I?  
  
What I am trying to protect? Who is it I am trying to save?  
  
My eyes blink to see glimpses of the sunset outside the windows and through all the open spaces between the buildings. Orange and purple swirls make invisible watercolor-like mixtures in the cloudy sky.  
  
“Syusuke…”  
  
And you close your eyes for a moment to settle into that small space, embraced by those arms you love so much. Then, you open your eyes again, gaining strength to deal with reality on full speed.  
  
“Take a nap until we get to the airport, ‘Mitsu.”  
  
The wind whistles through the small opening of the two windows in the back of the cab. You breathe for a moment.  
Enjoy one day at a time even if it’s too painful to.  
  
That boy’s face replays over and over in my mind. It keeps on telling me to stay, but the worst thing you can do for someone is pity them. I know that so well, even as Syusuke holds me at my most tired position, but it isn’t my weakest point.  
I can’t fall that far. He won’t let me.  
  
 _“Come after me,” I had said to him and walked away without looking back. “Can you catch me, Echizen?”  
I didn’t hear what he said or was it that he said nothing? I didn’t know…_  
  
Scared to know of not becoming whom I wanted to be or forgetting who I am, I don’t know what to expect out of this fireball of anger, anticipation, frustration, and envy. Why is it that even though we sincerely wish someone well, we still feel a little resentment over their good fortune? Is it because we want it for ourselves?  
Is it because we know we worked too much or too little for something we believe should also be ours?  
  
For tennis or for something else, I don’t know what to expect from the future. We won’t know until we all get there. But surely, we will meet again to prove something to the other.  
  
As I close my eyes to take refuge from reality, I hold onto Syusuke with my fingers tightening over his blue jacket.  
Am I breaking free of my responsibilities or deepening this burden?  
  
But that boy’s voice keeps shouting from within the depths of myself.  
  
 _As I turned the corner, I glanced at him. His mouth was opened in shock, as if his mind was screaming but it instantly froze him silent. In the next second, his mouth slowly closed. Those naughty, determined eyes stared straight into mine saying,  
“You are my dream. And I always get what I want.”_  
  
That was the moment that made me question myself. Was I strong enough to live up to that?  
To be torn apart by those transparent eyes?  
  
And so, I have to leave find ‘me’ again.  
Or else…  
  
I stare up to Syusuke’s eyes, which are gazing at me quietly, knowing how distant we’re becoming with the width of his affectionate smile.  
Am I strong enough to live up to this? To be smothered by this asthma-inducing embrace?  
  
Yes, or else…  
…the two falling stars I had caught in my hands might fade away.  
  
Even if they’ll burn me into scars, I want to keep them because I cannot live or live without them. The world tells me I can’t because you’ve got to pick one or the other. I don’t know what I have to do or give up, but this is the way I’ll live. That’s why I feel crushed.  
It’s not what I have to do or how I’ve got to get there.  
  
It’s telling myself why. Failure begins in not trying. Guilt is made of that hurt of saving you can from the ashes because you’d given everything. It reminds you of ‘why’.  
  
So, I want to aim for impossibilities and kill myself in dreams in order to rise higher in reality.  
That is the only thing that remains of the weak being’s shell that I want to shed.  
  
I smirk as I find myself focusing intensely into and fighting against Syusuke’s strong eyes.  
  
He winks down at me. “So, when we get there, who serves? You or me?”  
“Even if it’s 3:00 am in the morning?”  
“I want to play as soon as we get there.”  
  
I pull on his collar and whisper in excitement, “You’re on.”  
  
And my heart beats wildly in pace with the speed of the neon green balls passing back and forth over the white net and that mysterious, appetizing face at the other end of the court…  
  
 **Owari.  
**

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve not done a fic for a long time, haven’t I? Well, things were hectic and here am I writing a fic about the frustrations of life. The style is from a perspective that’s within, from, and without ‘yourself’. To see yourself from many angles. Right now, I’m sad over people living with their eyes closed.
> 
> With love,  
> Yui


End file.
